When I count my blessings at Christmas, I think of friends like you
by ishouldberunning
Summary: In the face of tragedy, Severide prays he'll get the chance to make things right. One-shot following 1x10.


**My sincerest apologies to Alex and Arizona, but I have a new brotp. I love the friendship of Shay and Severide so much that I've returned from my two year writer hiatus to give you this.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**The characters aren't mine. The mistakes are.**

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"Have you heard anything?"

Severide startled out of his stupor at the sound of Dawson's voice. He hadn't heard her return –or leave for that matter. He forced his eyes from the floor to meet her gaze. The blood was gone from her face, replaced with a white butterfly bandage along her brow. Although her injuries had been treated, she remained in her gear, a startling reminder of the horror that had occurred just hours earlier. The sight of what he knew to be Shay's blood staining the blue fabric made his stomach convulse.

Her incessant stare returned his thoughts to the question. They had been subjected to the customary insistence that the doctors would do everything in their power to save her life, but that was hours ago. Since then, no one had come to speak to them about their friend's condition. Whether that was good or bad, he did not know. Words escaped him, so he settled for a mute shake of the head and his eyes resumed their fix on the pristine tiles beneath his feet. Silently, Dawson took the empty seat beside him.

They said nothing, left to mull over the day's madness on their own while time ticked on around them. Truthfully, they weren't that close. They were acquaintances, nothing more. Colleagues, united by the city they served but forever at odds due to their starkly contrasting opinions of one Matthew Casey. They had one thing in common and she was currently God-knows-where in this godforsaken hospital. Kelly's thoughts threatened to overtake him once more when Dawson's voice breached the air for a second time.

"Shay's tough. She'll…"

"Don't." He cringed at how pathetic he sounded.

"Severide. . ."

"I said don't." Suddenly, he was on his feet striding away from her, but he froze before he'd gone even one dozen steps. The second he wandered off, the doctors would be here with news. That's how the universe worked. He would never forgive himself if he missed it -the moment that could change his life forever. Change all of their lives. Irreparably. He turned to face his silenced companion. Dawson looked startled, scared even. Hell, he was scared too. Absolutely petrified.

"Don't sit there and tell me everything is going to be okay. Nothing is okay." This had been true for months, although the exact moment when life became so complicated was hard to pinpoint. Was it the night his fiancée walked out on him? Or the day that Andy died? The countless pills popped between then and now probably hadn't helped the situation much.

"My best friend might be dying." After all, that's what she was. _His best friend._It remained true even if his recent behavior had rescinded his right to say it out loud.

"She's all I've got. I lost Andy and…" he croaked. He paused in a futile attempt to regain control of the emotions that were quickly overwhelming him. For a man with the ability to shag any woman he pleased, he had few meaningful relationships. After Andy, Shay was the only genuine connection he had with another human being. Until he screwed it up.

"The only reason I've lasted this long is because of her." Shay had a knack for making you feel better. Beneath the jokes and the commitment issues she had a capacity for compassion that most people lacked these days –a trait that often got her hurt in the process. Take Clarice, for example. The woman had popped up out of nowhere, pregnant and married to a man, yet Shay had welcomed her with open arms. Just as readily, she jeopardized her own career, as well as her beloved partner's, to ensure he got his fix. How had he thanked her? With more lies and a heap of blissful ignorance. He was no better than her ex.

His foot acted out on his behalf, sending an empty trash bin across the room. Now it was Dawson's turn to stare at the floor. For him, it signified the end of the conversation so he retook his position at her right. Minutes, maybe dozens passed when he felt her shift beside him and take his hand. A clearing of the throat demanded his attention once more and he obliged, too weary to feign deafness.

"We aren't going to lose her." The determination in Dawson's voice told him she truly believed those words. He wished he could be as optimistic. He wanted to believe that good things happened to good people, but history had shown him otherwise. Besides, he had already done a bang-up job of driving Shay away. In the hours before the accident, he was left without a roommate and without his closest friend. Shay was a saint, but even she had her limits when it came to his bullshit.

"I think I already have." Dawson seemed intrigued at that, mouth open to inquire about his bewildering comment when a raspy tenor disturbed their secluded corner of the waiting room.

"Excuse me, are you here for Leslie Shay?" Two heads snapped up in anticipation and four eyes searched a haggard face, desperately seeking a sign that might indicate the nature of the doctor's visit. Dawson recovered her senses first.

"Yes. Yes! Is she okay? Is she awake?"

"She's sedated at the moment but should make a full recovery. Along with bruising to the abdomen and face, she suffered a skull fracture to her left temporal bone. The CT showed no signs of depression, but we'll keep an eye out for any signs of bleeding in the next 24 hours." He didn't hear anything after that. Dawson questioned the man vigorously using words he couldn't understand, but that didn't matter.

Leslie Shay was alive and that was enough for now.

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**Here's hoping that NBC doesn't cancel my latest obsession.**


End file.
